IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


UAIZB     |2.5 

■^  1^    17.2 


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1.8 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


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33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  •72-4503 


^<- 

^4> 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  IVIicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


Tl 
to 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


0 

D 
D 
D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


□    Coloured  maps/ 
Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


0 


D 


^ 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sent  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  e  tiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  li«Jre  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  dt6  filmdas. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 

HAS  AUTHOR'S  MS.  LETTER  INSCRIBED  AFTER  THE  TITLE  PAGE. 


D 
D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  d^colordes,  tachetdes  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachdes 

Showthtough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualit^  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materia 
Comprend  du  material  supplementaire 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

I — I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I — I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

r~7  Pages  detached/ 

r~p^  Showthtough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Los  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  film6es  d  nouveau  de  fapon  h 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Tl 

P 
o 
fi 


C 
b 
tl 

si 
o 
fi 

si 
o 


T 

s 
T 

V 

^ 

d 

e 
b 
ri 
r( 
n 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

_. 

12X                             16X                              20X                              24X                             28X 

3 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de^ 


Metropolitan  Toronto  Library 
Literature  Department 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  bacit  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


IVIetropolitan  Toronto  Library 
Literature  Department 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  filmds  en  commen^ant 
par  \9  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  pafje  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  f  ilmds  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  lest  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ♦-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  larcje  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
car,:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmis  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


I  I 

1  2  3 


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2 

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5 

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POEMS 


o-    -    — 


SmElilA. 

"  WliLToVoi-  wrung  i:i  tloMC 
To  ihc  humblest  and    tlic  weakest,  'neath  the  all-heholdin.^  svuv 
That  wronjf  is  also  clone  to  us,  and  they  are  slaves  ni  )st  base, 
Whose  love  of  right  is  for  themselves,  and  not  for  all  the  race." 

— Louuil. 

I. 

Soft  o'er  the  plaijis  the  western  winds  are  blowing; 
The  war-bruised  cannon  thunders  to  the  morn, 
Rousing  and  setting  the  hearts  of  millions  glowing- 
'Ihls  is  the  day  our  liberty  was  born!  ^ 
Uufurl  the  banners  in  our  battles  torn — 
The  flag  we  have  such  reason"  to  adore — 
The  colors  that  we  have  so  proudly  worn — 
-^rhe  emblem  of  our  freedom  evermore! 
wfth  joy,  a  nation's  pi'.lse  beats  high,  from  shore  to 
shore. 


POKMS, 


ir. 


'I'hus  in  our  home,  but  oh,  in  other  hinds 
Arc  there  no  wrongs  our  feelings  to  enHst? 
See  where  Siberia  Hfts  her  trembling  hands. 
Imjjloring  heaven, — winding  the  chilly  mist 
Around  her  snow-girt  brow;  her  i)ale  lips  kissed 
By  the  north  winds;  l.er  tears  are  ice  e're  yet 
'I'hey  leave  her  cheeks.     J»eiiold  that  Nihilist — 
That  Priestess  of  Desi)air!     Here  is  a  debt 
Man  owes  to  man,  as  deep  as  man  hath  ever  met: 

III. 

To  free  the  imprisoned   who  have  done  no  crime 
But  love  their  country  and  oppression  hate — 
Men  such  as  have  come  forth  in  every  time 
To  die  for  Freedom,  leaving  a  memory  great 
To  the  advancement  of  the  struggling  State. 
.And  o\eithi()w  of  Wrong;  nun  who  have  stood 
To  challenge  Tyranny  and  (juestion  ]''ate. 
Sealing  their  i)rinciples  wilh  their  life  bleed. 
Who  shall  deny  them,  who  accuse  them  to  his  (led? 

IV. 

Lol   what  a  slavish  death  awails  them   here 
Who  have  but  thought  nor  yet  aspired  to  do. 
Being  withheld  less  b)'  a  natural  fear 
Than  hatred  of  the  knife  that  others  drew 
Whose  hearts  were  only  sterner,  not  more  true. 
In  vain  to  the  red  axe  their  necks  are  bared, 
Yet  are  they  doomed  and  executed,  too; 
Murdered  by  piecemeal,  yet  by  murder  spared;  — 
Their  prayers  return  to  them,  their  curses  pass  un- 
heard ! 


4^ 


I'Ol.MS. 


^ 


J 


()\-r  Ihc  bleak  plain,  hi'iioath  a  northern  sky 
W  hose  very  smile  is  hitler,  wanders  slow 
The  train  of  exiles,  driven  out  to  die 
A  lingering  death,  whose  bosom  rendin-  [huvj 
The  sons  of  l.iherly  may  never  know! 
Torn  from  their  homes  and  kindred,  snatched  away 
In   youth  and  manhood— erushed  by  the  fell  blow 
Of  Tvranny  in  the  full  bla/e  of  day— 
Where  are  Thy  llumders  Jove,  cans't  Th-.u   not   bivl 

them  stay? 

VT. 
One  man  the  curse  of  millions!— let  him  b'.-; 
Why  should  we  meddle  in  his  dark  desi,;ning? 
It  harms  us  not.     iMiough  that  we  are  Iree, 
Rejoicing  in  the  sun  above  us  shinnig— 
While  millions  for  that  very  light  are  pin:,  g: 
Starving  in  dungeons,  wasting  their  lives  away 
In  the  deep  mines,  on  the  <o\l\  earth  reclining, 
Debarred  from  hope,  from  liberty,  from  day- 
Come  hither,  ve   who  laugh,   and   weep  your  mirth 


away! 


vn. 


One  man  the  curse  of  millions!— can  it  be 
That  we  are  men  of  st)ul,  and  yet  are  mute? 
We,  who  have  found  it  glorious  to  be  free. 
And  stepped  to  freedom  with  light  heart  and  foot. 
There  is  a  sympathy  'twixt  brnte  and  brute: 
And  hatii  man  none  for  man— for  his  own  kmd.' 
Are  we  not  all  sprung  of  a  common  root? 
Ts  blood  not  blood?     Is  there  no  tie  will  bind? 
Doth  rity  only  cry  to  the  unheeding  wind? 


,'   » 


<'.,      -.> 


POEMS. 


U 


VIII. 

Behold  him  as  he  is,  the  mighty  Czar: 
Enslaving  millions  and  himself  a  slave! 
Dimmed  now  the  glory  of  that  northern  star! 
Help,  Tyranny,  if  thou  hast  power  to  save, 
Thy  lordliest  empire  totters  o'er  the  grave — 
She  falls — Oh,  Freedom! — shrieking  to  the  skies; 
(Weep  not,  oh,  Man — thy  tears  are  for  the  brave!) 
Hark!  how  she  groans! — nav,  'tis  Siberia  cries — 
Vengeance,  where  is  thy  sword?  Freeman,  thy  broth- 
er dies! 

IX. 

Where  is  the  justice,  the  eternal  rights 

I'hat  men,  since  they  were  men,  have  claimed  as 

theirs, 
Dreaming  themselves  upon  the  sublime  heights 
Of  Freedom,  to  which  they  are  nacural  heirs; 
And  must  they  succumb  when  a  tyrant  dares 
To  rob  them  of  this  better  part  of  life"* 
Freedom,  must  they  ascend  the  scaffold  stairs 
For   thee?      Will   Justice  come   not  but   through 

strife? 
Is  there  no  cure  for  wrong  but  the  assassin's  knife? 

X. 

Call  it  not  murder!     (laze  u])on  the  wrongs 

Of  noble  hearts, — the  sufferings  of  those 

W'ho  dared  be  free;  their  hands   were  laced   with 

thongs, 
Because  they  raised  their  voices  to  op])ose 
Injustice;  pleading,  they  were  met  with  blows; 


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POEMS. 


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.'•   ir 


They  cursed  the  insolence  Oppression  \<%ars, 
And  dungeons  shut  them  in;  and  when  they  chose 
To  grasp  through  blood   the    freedom   that    was 
theirs', 
The  scaffold  claimed  them — God;  ye  call  them  mur- 
derers! 

XL 

For  thee  they  suffered,  yet  thy  cheeks  are  dry; 
For  thee  they  di.^d — Oh,  where  hath  Pity  flown  I 
Suffuse  with  tears  of  gratitude  the  eye 
That  but  for  them  had  wept  o'er  ills  thine  own! 
Thy  liberty,  like  a  bright  flower,  hath  grown 
Watered   by  their  heart's  blood;    thy   brow    had 

sweat 
In  slavery  such  as  thou  hast  never  known, 
lint  that  they  freed  thee;  and  thou  would'st  forget 
'I'hou  owest  aught,  as  though  thou   could'st  not  suf- 
fer yet! 

XII. 

They  are  not  murderers  who  driven  to  bay 
Turn  on  their  human  hounds  with  club  or  knife? 
Beast  preys  on  beast,  but  man  is  not  the  prey 
Of  man!  There  is  no  need  of  endless  strife — 
Earth  yields  enough  for  all.     And  if  Wrong,  rife. 
Hurries  the  millions  into  early  graves; 
Shall  they  submit  without  a  blow  for  life? 
They   are  not   thieves   who    steal    when   hunger 
craves; 
And  they  who  tamely  die,  for   conscience  sake,  are 
slaves. 


f  ,   Jl 


\ 


POEMS. 


XIII. 


Oppression  long  continued  doth  make  slaves 
Of  men  who  otherwise  had  made  their  hour 
Glorious  with  noble  deeds!     They  are  not  knaves 
Who  take  by  lawless  force  their  natural  dower! 
The  sense  of  wrong  is  an  almighty  power, 
Making  of  men,  who  but  a  day  ago 
Slavery,  with   stripes,   had    taught    to  cringe    and 

cower 
Before  a  master,  monsters,  whose  mad  blow 
Kails  swift  alike  upon  the  guiltless  and  the  foe. 

XIV. 

Are  they  responsible?     Long  suffering 

Dulls  the  capacity  in  men  to  feel, 

Rending  their  bands,  ferociously  they  spring. 

Drunk  with  new  freedom  and  misguided  zeal, 

Grinding  the  oi)pressor  with  a  heavier  heel 

Than  that  they  groaned  'neath.      They  havebo-ne 

too  much 
To  weigh  out  justice  when  they  draw  the  steel! 
Power  is  a  fatal  weapon  in  the  clutch 
Of    the    unskilled;  but    it    is  Wrong  hath  made   it 

such. 

XV. 

Are  they  responsible?     The  right  to  live 

Is  the  common  ijro])erty  of  all  the  race. 

And  must  men  die  when  they  have  naught  to  give 

For  that  they  have  been   robbed  of  ?     Must  they 

face 
Starvation,  while  a  few  usurp  the  place, 


!■ 


J 


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w\ 


POEMS. 


Hoarding    the    wealth    of    milHons?      Shall    they 

flee 
Who  have  the  power,  knowing  that  not  a  trace 
Of  want  were  left  if  all  would  only  see, 
And  claim  their  long  earned  wealth  and  natural  lil>- 
erty? 

XV  r. 

All  forms  of  life  are  subject  unto  fear, 
And  sink  to  a  common  level  under  it.     • 
Men  are  not  selfish;   hut  to  see  want  near, 
And  know  themselves,  if  not  forearmed,  unfit 
To  gra])j)le  with  it,  pu/zles  the  weak  wit, 
Making  of  hearts  that  otherwise  had  bled 
For  everv  human  ill,  rocks  whereon  split 
The  waves  of  sympathy!     Remove  the  dread, 
And  each   will  serve    and  haste  to  see  his  brother 
fed! 

XVII. 

Justice  is  law!     Injustice,  though  she  wear 

The  ditfnities  that  olden  customs  lend. 

Breathing  divinity  in  her  cold  stare. 

Is  an  assassin!     Laws  are  not  an  end 

In     themselves,    Init    through    constant    change, 

mend 
An  unjust  edict,  is  no  more  a  law 
Than  murder,  when  committed  to  befriend 
A  noble  cause,  is  virtue!     Though  in  awe 
Men  for  the   time  bend  low  beneath   the  ills  that 

gnaw. 


POEMS. 


XVIII. 

And  goad  their  spirits,  they  will  not  forever 
Be  silent.     'JMme  is  the  great  friend  of  Right, 
nevelo})ing  the  bold  hearts  that  deliver 
The  enslaved  })eoi)le,  slowly  through  the  night 
Of  Fear  and  Ignorance;  Hooding  them  with  the  light 
Of  human  love,  on  which  they  feed  and  grow 
Strong,  till  the  hour  has  arrived  to  Tigh.t, 
When  they  come  forth,  and  all  men  seem  to  know 
'J  heir  leader,   and   surround  him,    armed    for    tlvj 


great  blow 


XIX. 


Away,  red  courser  Warl     Awake  the  ])lain 
With  thy  shrill  neighing;   toss  thy  dauntless  head, 
Exi)and  thy  iron  ribs  and  breathe  again 
The  breath  of  Freedom,  till  thv  awful  trend 

■     Shall  ciuel!  cold  tyrants  with  a  colder  dread. 
Scatter  their  votaries.      Let  Oppression  bleed 
Till  the  surfeited  earth  hath   vomited  — 
Oh,  when  'tis  for  the  millions  to  be  freed, 

Man  lays  his  bosom  bare,  he  glories  in  the  dca]. 

XX. 

Within  his  palace,  girt  by  armed  men. 
The  tyrant  crouches,  trembling  for  the  fate 
That  must  inevitably  follow,  when 
The  slave  awakens,  and  the  wounded  State 
( I  roans  with  oj^iiressi'^T,  turning  on  tlie  great 
The  vengeful  fires  of  her  kindling  eye, — 
Her  bosom  swelling  with  a  deathless  hate, 
That  will,  in  its  blind  haste,  all  law  defy, 
Making  a  howling  waste  under  a  midniiiht  skv. 


7 


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POEMS, 


XXI. 

Life  howsoe'er  thou  would'st,  Tyrant,  if  thy  death 
Will  make  a  people  happier,  thou  shalt  die! 
'1  hy  doom  hath  gone  forth  on  the  whirlwind  breath 
Of  a  world-freedom!      Hope'st  thou  to  defy 
Light,  who  wast  born  in  darkness?     Wilt  thou  fly 
The  wrath  of  suffering  ages?     Can'st  thou  wage 
Successful  war  with  Truth?     Think  not  they  lie, 
These  warnirg  voices  of  a  brightening  age. 
Trust  not  to  silence,  it  but  cloaks  a  deeper  rage. 

XXIL 

Time  steals  away  the  power  of  the  hero, 
Shall  it  spare  tyrants?     Change,  like  a  vast  "iver. 
Bears  all  before  it.     Death  shall  fmd  his  Neio! 
Rome  is  no  more — shall  Russia  stand  forever? 
Empire  of  martyrs  unavenged,  the  quiver 
Reserves  an  arrow  for  thy  hated  heart. 
'I'yrants  have  fallen,  greater  tyrants — never! 
The  tragedy  must  end,  each  in  his  part, — 
Thou  who  wert  skilled  in  death,  beware  of  thine  own 

art. 

XXIII, 

In  Wrong's  back  history  thou  shal't  have  a  place, 

A  chapter  to  thyself,  writ  with  the  blood 

Of  murdered  millions;  o'er  its  leaves  the  face 

Of  the  worn  exile  ever  shall  intrude, 

Breathing  thy  name  to  earth's  great  multitude 

In  burning  syllables.    Time  will  not  heed 

Thy  virtues,  for  thou  surely  did'st  some  good, 

But  curse  thee  for  thy  cruelty  and  greed — 

Even  Pity  will  forsake  in  that  last  hour  of  need. 


.  1 


«r 


jii3B^ 


1  o 


POEMS. 


XXIV. 

There  is  an  era  of  which  prophets  speak 
And  poets  sing — the  evening  (luietude 
Of  that  sweet  peace  the  weary  millions  seek, 
Waiting  in  hope,  the  hour  when  the  hood 
'I  hat  wraps  in  night  the  mingling  multilude; 
Hiding  the  aims  of  life,  shall  vanish  (piite; 
And  universal  love  and  every  good 
That  man  may  claim  as  his  eternal  right. 
Warm  this  cold  world  of    ours,   and    mike    creation 
bright! 

XXV. 

Oh,  glorious  morning,  thou  wilt  surely  come  I 
The  night  of  kingship  hastens  to  a  close. 
Freedom  awakes,  and  Tyranny  is  dumb — 
Pal  J  in  her  rage,  and  feeble  to  opjiose 
The  exile's  hatred  and  '.he  subject's  blows. 
Oppression  falls! — Hark!  the  triumphal  cries: 
Russia  rejoices;  Earth  with  rapture  glows; 
Even  for  a  time,  Siberia's  wintry  skies 
I'reathe    a  warm   spring;  and   Hoj)c  looks  on  with 
beaming  eyes! 


y 


\f 


POEMS. 


I  1 


I 


\ 


y 


ll 


■'      >• 


ODE  TO  THE  WAR  OF  1878-9. 


"  A  love  of  liberty  with  life  is  given, 
And  life  itself  th'  lesser  gift  of  heaven." 


-Drxden. 


I. 

When  the  Bulgarian, 
Smarting  from  unavenged  affronts  and  blows. 
Stood  madly  brooding  o'er  his  country's  woes. 
There  kindled  then 
Within  the  hearts  of  men, 
A  hatred  of  the  Oppressor  and  a  thirst 
For  freedom  from  the  ills  by  which  they  were  m 
cursed, 

II. 

With  the  alarm 
I'he  Tyrant  rouses  from  his  dreams, 

And  stretches  forth  his  arm. 
The  war-horse  paws  the  earth  and  neighs; 
Upon  the  wind  the  crescent  streams; 


J 


12 


POEMS. 


The  turbans  of  countless  warriors  blaze, 
In  the  sun's  hot  beams; 
And  flash  and  glance 
The  naked  lance, 
As  forward  move 
To  his  defence 
The  columns  dense. 
Of  those  who  faithful  prove. 
Thor.  vievvest  them  depart, 
Under  the  soft  blue  sky, 
With  a  (juicker  pulse  in  thy  heart 
And  a  fiercer  gleam  in  thine  eye. 
'I'rust  not  in  thine  armies,  Tyrant;  they 
May  fade  from  thy  side  in  a  single  day! 
Trust  not  in  thy  arms — in  the  cause  of  wrong. 
Though  they  number  millions,  thou  are  not  strong! 
'I'rust  not  in  thy  skill — The  Right's  success, 
Though  won  by  fools,  is  none  the  less! 
Thou  art  insolent  to-day 
With  an  army  still  in  sight, 
lUit  I  ween  thou  wil't  not  come  forth  to  pray 
When  they  return  at  night, 
Wounded,  famished  and  worn; 
With  lances  broken  and  banners  torn; 
Defeated, — ungeneralled, — forlorn. 


V 


III. 

Carnage,  on  the  throne  of  War, 
Sits  and  plumes  her  purple  wings; 

Rolls  her  bloodshot  eyes 
To  the  Future's  lowering  skies, 


I'OKMS. 


13 


And  shrilly  sings 
Of  con(iucst  yet  afar, 
And  bloody  bantiuetings! 
But,  lo!     the  hour  is  near. 
The  tread  of  serried  men  breaks  on  mine  ear. 
Armed  with  bayonet,  lance  and  gun, 
'J'he  rival  hosts  appeal. 
Now  is  the  hour  of  glorious   hope,  the  hour  of  das- 
tard fear. 
Cowards  trembling;  heroes,  tried 
In  battles  lost  or  won, 
Marching  to  the  grave 
With  the  steady  step  of  one. 

Behold  them,  slave! 
Hither  turn  thine  eyes  and  see 
How  men,  who  were  enslaved  like  thre. 
Fight  for  life  and  liberty! 
They  come,  determined  one  to  take; 
And,  strong  and  jealous  one  to  hold: 
Which,  their  purpose  shall  forsake 
And  a  trampled  banner  fold? 
Answer,  Freedom,  thine  the  cause! 
Answer,  answer  with  a  blow; 
Strike  for  everlasting  gains; 
Strike,  and  lay  the  tyrant  low, 

And  break   thy  chains 
On  the  rattling  cannon's  jaws! 
Lo!  they  near,  they  meet,  they  dash — 
Their  rifles  smoke,  their  bayonets  flash — 
Hark,  to  the  blazing  cannon's  roar,  the  fiery   charg- 
er's crash! 


M 


I'OKMS. 


V 


IV. 

As  when  at  sonic  cold,  cheerless  dawn, 

'1  he  swimmer  battles  with  the  swelling  flood. 

The  warriors  of  Freedom  struggle  on. 

Their  hard  hands  red  with  blood. 
Under  their  feet,  not  a  slain  brother 
But  his  fall  brings  the  triumi)h  nearer. 
Life  is  dear  to  them — Liberty,  dearer. 
Earth  is  only  their  mother, 
Freedom,  their  (iod. 
Onward,  with  fiercer  stroke,  for  well  ye  kr.ow, 
i'he  blow  for  Freedom  is  a  desj)erate  blow; 
.^wA  they  who  strike  must  fall,  or  they  must  fell   the 
foe! 
Better  death  in  such  a  cause — 
F'allen  amid  true  men's  ai)])lause: 
Than  life  in  which  the  better  lutrt 


Is  ruthlessly  suppressed; 


Where  hidi  desires  swell  the  heart 

Throbbing  in  a  slave's  breast; 
And  noble  thoughts  fade  unexpressed 


In  the  as])iring  mind: 


Or,  bursting  like  the  gusty  wind. 

Pass  puri)oselcss,  nor  leave  a  trace  behind- 
Lest  be  the  gibbet  where  the  bones 
Of  he  who  asked  so  mad  a  boon 
As  justice,  daring  to  be  free. 

Swing  slowly-  to  the  melancholy  tones 

Of  night  winds,  i)leading  to  the  mntrn 
That  cannot  help  but  see. 


if 


V       J 


'I 


1) 
I 


V 


"ir 


^      ^ 


r 


w 


:s>^ 


POEMS. 


V. 


•5 


Pity,  are  thy  tears  in  vain? 
Mercy,  look  not  at  the  shiin-  - 

Scortclied  and  sliattcred; 

Riddled  and  battered; 

Torn  and  entangled, 

Disfigured  and  mangled: 

The  young  and  the  old, 

The  faint  and  the  bold, 
Dead  in  thousands  on  the  plain; — 

And  yet  again 

With  dreadful  stroke 

The  lines  are  broke; 

'I'he  rifles  smoke; 

The  bullets  fly; 

The  bayonets  goad; 

The  cannon  roars; 

The  shells  explode; 

The  grapeshot  pours. 
And  Death  throws  wide  a  thousand  doors. 
Wilder,  faster,  further  in, 
F.ouder,  deeper,  grows  the  din. 
Until  with  awful  voice 
The  cannon  and  the  drum 
Loudly  summon  thee,  their  choice — 
Liberty! 


: ) 


i6 


I  111 II I1 11— —> 


I'OKMS. 


-1 


\\     > 


VI. 

Upon  tliL'  plain, 
Willi. turban  cleft  in  twain, 
And  cyt's  to  heaven  turned, 
(llassy  in  prayer  that  heaven  si)urned. 
Lies  the  van<|uished  infidel — 
Cursing  by  his  jiresenee  still. 

lUiry  him;  cover  him  uj)  from  sight. 
For  the  darkness  is  his  goal, 
And  his  progress-hating  soul 
Hath  winged  its  flight 
With  his  latest  breath, 
'I'hrough  the  doors  of  death, 
And  into  the  land  of  night. 
The  Proj^het  \vee[)s  to  find  his  children  slain. 
i>ends  low  to  catch  the  murmur  of  des])air, 
The  curse  of  hatred  and  the  anguished  prayer 


And  we 


'il)s  agam. 


Starts,  and  calls  his  children  brav 
On  to  concjuer  and  to  crush — 
Do  they  come?     Do  they  come? 
Oo  they  gather  round  to  save? 
Silence,  why  so  deep  thy  hush? 
Let  him  hear  the  muffled  drum; 
I'ell  him  they  are  in  the  grave! 
Infidel,  thy  cries  are  vain — 
Spare  thy  curses,  stay  thy  tears; 
There  is  nought  for  thee  to  gain 
In  the  oncoming  years! 


f 


-I 


I'OKMS. 

Ruin  galluTS  o'er  tlieo  fast — 
Sword  and  fire  will  not  save! 
Thy  decay  was  long  forecast — 
Time  shall  tread  upon  thy  grave: 
I'yranny  must  fall  at  last, 
Though  the  measure  of  her  reign 
He  the  cyc\cs  of  the  l)ast,  — 
Fall,  never  to  rise  again! 


•7 


I 


g'j 


i8 


POEMS. 


.  PHILOSOPHER'S  HYMN. 


'J 


1. 

Summer  was  with  me;  warm  and  bright 
All  nature  lay  beneath  my  eye; 
The  stars  shone  down  serene  at  night. 
On  the  green  earth  from  the  blue  sky. 
The  north  winds,  coldly  they  have  blown 

Darkening  the  sky  o'erhead 
With  wintry  clouds,  whose  snows  enfold 
Hill,  wood  and  field,  till  all  have  grown 
White,  and  silent,  and  cold. 
My  love  was  as  that  summer,  e'er  it  fled  I 
.\  cold  wind  blew  uj)on  her  cheeks  and  she   is  de;ul 

2. 

There's  a  dull  mockery  in  grief. 
.\way,  my  mourning  will  be  brief 
IJrief  and  yet  deep; 
That  will  not  wake  forever,  nor  yet  forever  sleej); 


i 


1> 


I'OKMS. 


19 


But  tinge  life  with  a  deeper  hue 

Of  thought  all  the  way  through. 

Ob,  wherefore  do  we  weep, 

Knowing  our  tears  are  vain? 
We  cannot  mend  the  broken  glass 
Of  life,  or  to  the  dull  earth,  chain 
The  spirit  once  freed!     Our  prayers  pass 
On  wings  of  holy  fire  to  heaven — 
Yet  do  the  spirits  from  us  riven, 

O'er  the  mysterious  main 
On  which  their  barques  at  death  were  driven, 

Return  to  us  again? 
W'c  can  but  murmur,  hoi)e  and  wait  apart, 
Peering  into  the  mystery  with  beating  heart. 


ad. 


3. 

All  men  have  dreamed — such  dreams,  alas! 

As  time  will  never  bring  to  pass! 

All  men  have  hoped — I  with  the  rest — 

And  lived  to  see  their  hopes  depart, 

Like  the  last  sunlight  in  the  West, 

Vanishing  impercei)tibly; 

Or  dying  rAiddenly,  with  the  sweep 

Of  some  dark  cloud  into  the  sky. 

All  men  have  loved,  and  fondly  pressed 

Some  cherished  idol  to  a  heart 

Throbbing  in  a  proud  breast! 
All  men  have  wept — shall  I  not  weep? — 
And  felt  a  pang  at  the  heart's  core. 
And  through  the  frame  a  shudder  creep, 


20 


POEMS. 


! 


Bending  in  silence  o'er 
The  form  of  one  they  loved,  still  in  the  sleep 
hat    comes    at    last    on    all,  fromout    the  voi(  eless 


deep. 


4. 


Mark  how  the  dial  shadows  mo\c.' 

Kid  Time  not  stay  his  flight. 
He  cannot  give  me  back  the  love 

That  I  have  lost  to-night. 
He  cannot  take  the  joys  he  gave 
Long  since,  though  that  which  was  their  1 
Hath  part  no  longer  in  the  strife — 

He  cannot  bid  them  (~ease — 
'I'heir  memorv  lingers  in  a  urave 

And  changeless  peace. 

(),  wherefore  am   1  satl? 

'I'he  i)ast  have  I  not  had, 

And  have  I  not  to-day? — 

To-day  that  will  be  gone 

So  soon — lol   I  am  glad  I 

'J'herefore,  let  time  wing  on, 

And  write  uoon  mv  brow. 


lie 


The  storv  of  all  life,  as  he  is  writi 


V 


nt:  now 


5. 

Let  Time  wing  on — the  past  with  all 

Its  golden  store  is  mine. 
Scenes  vanished  reappear  at  call; 


I'OEMS. 


21 


.    f. 


'J"he  leaves  of  long-gene  autun^.ns  fall 
Again;  the    suns  of  summers  shine 
In  which  I  roamed  a  hai))))'  boy, 

liearing  to  the  wind  my  brow — 
My  heart  is  filled  with  a  strange  joy  ■ 
When  I  behold  them   now. 
He  cannot  take  these  from  me,  he  can  add 
A  richer  color  only,  making  my  heart  glad. 


0. 

Let  time  wing  on — the  future's  heart 

Thrills  like  a  child's  at  play — 
'I  o-morrow  is  the  better  part 

Of  that  we  call  to-day. 
The  Future  beckons  from  her  bowers 
Sniiling;   the  scent  of  new  blown  flowers 
iMingles  in  her  sweet  breath. 
What  though  behind  her  Sorrow  cowers 

In  the  dark  robes  of  death? 
What,  though 
The  shadow  of  Invisible  Powers 
l-'alls  chilly  on  the  passing  hours, 

Tincturing  the  world  with  woe — 
1  will  take  her  fair  hand,  it  thrills  my  soul 
With  a  new  life  that  throbs    towards    the    uncertain 
goal. 


1J()KM^ 


im)  lUlOKK^   HEART. 


I  i 


„vaify.n,.V,e,ca„..»tfon..»y 

,.,„;„,  ,„.S.,,UH  of  change.      ^^^^^^^^^^^ 


S  > 


\,owrcnu,nlK-v  Edward  vol: 
■x„.l>Uu-v,  none  who  k.u-..vi",^u. 
■■  VUU  often  tell  a,  the  m-c-sKk 

H,„vy•dwardwoocaamlwo"ll^ 
A;:d  sunk  hean-broUen  when  she  d-.d. 

.    ,,       '.l„.nrt  was  eold.     She  said: 
'■^-^'^>^>^';"l\;„,ot  love  you,  friend/ 
''  Press  not — i^  c  anuui  ^, 

..  Mv  love  will  connner  ,n  the  end, 
,,.  an;weved  and  was  eon^fort.d. 

A'--*-^"":.^:;:t":;o:rLreves 

Were  precious  stones,  ne 

He  held  (believing  women  l.r.ze 

The  giver,  if  the  gift  be  ruh,) 


J. 


V  > 


POEMS.  23 

And  parting  in  the  evening,  kissed 
Her  !..ind,  and  slipped  it  on  her  wrist. 
But  she  undid  tlie  cl  isp,  and  pressed 

The  gift  into  his  hand  again, 
And  said :  "  I  do  not  love  you — best 

You  keep  it,  Edward,  until  then." 

There  is  a  love  tliat  strong  men  know — 

A  fire  of  the  heart — a  glow; 

Warm,  inextinguishable,  slow. 

And  such  was  Edward's  love.      Each  day 

She  saw  him  enter  at  the  gate, 

And  wished  him,  though  she  could  not  hate 
His  ]>resence,  fifty  leagues  away. 
In  his  calm  eyes  and  voice  she  read 
The  love  he  bore  for  her;  and  said: 

'Twere  best  you  come  not,  when  you  know 
I  cannot  love  you." 

*'  Even  so," 
He  answered,  "  I  would  dwell  away. 
But  cannot  live  unless  I  may 
Behold  your  face  from  day  to  day." 

But  when  again  he  came,  within 

Her  room  she  hid,  and  locked  the  door; 
And  said,  "  I  will  not  see  him  more. 

Lest  bv  persistency  he  win." 

Then  threw  her.self  upon  her  bed 

And  wept  and  wished  that  she  were  dead; 

And  smiled  that  he  should  make  her  weej); 

And  hated  him,  and  fell  asleep. 


wr- 


r*     I    •- 


24 


POEMS. 


!  ; 


And  after  that  her  heart  was  changed; 

And  daily  did  she  watch  and  wait 

His  coming  at  the  garden  gate, 
And  felt  no  more  her  love  estranged, 

But  chid  him  if  he  tarried  late. 

And  Mary  loved  him  more  and  more 

As  weeks  went  by,  and  wondered  much 
That  she  had  failed  to  see  before 

What  others  saw,  the  worth  of  such 
A  love  as  his;  and  sometimes  thought 

That  Edward  must  remember  how 
Her  heart  had  turned  from  him;  but  nouglu 

He  spake,  or  said  "  What  matler  now? 
My  kisses  are  upon  thy  cheek, 
'I  hy  lips  are  mine;  so  let  us  speak 
Of  love,  and  be  the  past  forgot." 

Twice  did  the  summer  come  and  go; 
Twice  were  the  bare  fields  clad  in  snow: 

And  all  that  time  upon  a  bed 
Of  sickness  lay  the  patient  wife 
Of  he  who  loved  her  more  than  life. 

And  when  the  leaves  again  were  shed. 
And  snow  the  cold  hills  mantled  o'er, 

Fair  Mary's  spirit  ])assed  away; 

And  Edward  sorrowed  day  by  day. 
For  her  whose  face  he  saw  no  more. 

There  is  a  grief  that  strong  men  feel. 
Keener  than  the  thrust  of  steel — 
.\  wound  that  balsams  cannot  heal. 


\- 


c 


I'or.Ms. 


J. 


And  such  was  Edward's  grief.     The  day 

Was  mournful  with  the  memory 

Of  her  who  had  gone  lience  to  be 
At  rest;  and  when  at  night  he  lay 

Upon  his  couch,  his  soul  looked  throuuh 

The  brooding  darkness,  out  into 
'I'he  unknown,  and  the  lonely  hours 

Were  fraught  with  tears  and  prayers  addressed 
To  (lod;   but  the  Invisible  Powers 

Made  answer  none — there  was  no  rest. 


^■r 


Oh  I   th.e  in^^atiable  yearning 

Of  a  heart  that  hath  lost  its  mate! 

And,  oh,  the  agony  of  learning 

To  love  in  hopelessness,  and   wait! 


AH  Edward's  thoughts  were  with  the  dead, 
And  daily  in  the  morning  hours 
He  went  to  strew  her  grave  with  flowers. 
Men  looked  on  him  and  said: 
"  His  heart  is  broke."     And  when  they  passed 
And  saw  him  there  from  day  to  day, 
'1  hey  came  in  course  of  time  to  say: 
"  Upon  the  grave  we'll  llnd  him  dead 
Sometime;"  and  so  it  was  at  last, 
For  when  the  leaves  again  were  shed  — 

The  third  time  since  their  wedding  day 

He  turned  not  from  her  grave  away 
At  noon;  and  when  the  sun  had  set, 
They  looked,  and  lo!  he  tarried  vet. 


n  11 


26 


POEMS. 


'Then  they  approached  him,  saying,  "  Sir. 
The  night  is  cold — 'tis  time  .you  seek 
Your  home."     lUit  Edward  did  not  s|)cak. 
And  one  put  out  his  hand  to  stir 
Mim,  lest  he  slept,  and  starting,  said: 
"  Even  as  we  feared — the  man  is  dead." 


1. 


One  narrow  grave  contains  their  dust 

That  long  ago  hathmingled  there. 
Their  faithful  souls  are  with  the  just 

In  heaven,  where  neither  grief  or  care 
Can  reach  them  more.     Or,  if  the\  must 
Forever  sleep,  still  are  tliey  blest 
Within  thy  walls,  Dark  House  of  Rest — 
\Vhere  few  whose  loxe  was  true  and  deej) 
As  Edward's,  of  thy  Miillions,  sleep. 


\ 


1 


Cv 


u 


POKMS. 


LABOR. 


27 


\ 


i 


Hark!   Labor  begging  on  the  street 
Or  fettered  to  a  tyrant's  feet, 
Compelled  in  bitterness  to  eat 

The  proffered  crust  of  Capital. 

Shrieks  o'er  the  native  eagle's  scream, 
Where  is  our  justice?     Must  we  deem 
Our  liberty  a  hollow  dream — 
The  phantom  of  a  carnival? 

Too  long  hath  Capital  oppressed! 
Too  long  hath  Labor  groaned  for  rest. 
Cursing  within  her  bleeding  breast 
The  dagger  of  Monopoly! 

Must  tears  forever  wet  her  bread? 
A  stone  the  pillow  'neath  her  head, 
By  cowards  bound,  by  tyrants  bled. 

And  scourged  with  woes  of  penury? 


2H 


POEMS. 


w 


Hark,  hov,-  she  cries!   Her  struggling  l)reath 
Pathetic  with  the  ring  of  deatli. 
Kxpiring  piteously  beneath 
'I'lie  iron  heel  of  C'apital! 

Awake,  proud  people!   who  were  !)orn 
As  free,  untrammeled  as  the  morn — 
And  blow  for  blow,  and  scorn  for  scorn. 
Shall  ring  immortal  to  her  call. 

United  in  the  hour  of  need. 
Strike  now  and  let  oi)pression  bleed! 
Wrench  now  the  sword  from  social  greed 
And  individual  tyranny! 

Throw  ])arty  politics  aside, 
No  more  let  enmities  divide; 
By  common  wants  and  sufferings  tried. 
Move  out  and  on  to  victorv. 


Wrong  must  succumb!     The  right,  alone. 
Is  heir  to  an  eternal  throne! 
And  every  tear  and  every  groan 

Wrung  from  oppressed  humanity. 

Is  but  another  polished  gem 
For  her  immortal  diadem; 
When  time  at  last  has  gathered  them 
Into  that  crown  of  brilliancy. 


I'OKMS. 


29 


THE  BALLAD  OF  BED  BOB. 


V 


A  youth,  (luite  a  youth,  who  was  known  as  Red  Bob 
^  On  account  of  his  hair  (which  was  rather  a  pity),' 
To  fortune  aspired,  but,  alas,  for  said  Bob- 

He  found   there   were  scores  like  himself  in  the 
city. 

So  he  thought,  as  he  pictured  the  things  that  might 
be, 

^    "  My  purse  and  my  patience  are  not  everlasting; 
There's  nothing  but  want  on  the  far  side  of  me. 
And  the  truth  is,  I  never  took  up  well  with  fasting. 

"  A  bench  in  the  park  is  an  unpleasant  bed, 
And  that  more  especially  in  the  wet  weather; 

And  to  live,  like  a  poet,  on  water  and  bread—' 
Well,   it's    tough,    kind    of    tough,    take    it    all 
together. 


^o 


I'OEMS. 


u 


"  I'm  willing  to  handle  a  pen  or  a  spade; 

There's  no  use  relying  on  luck — it's  a  bubble: 
I'm  not  of  the  stuff  of  which  beggars  are  made; 

I'm    honest — perhaps     that's    the    cause    of    my 
trouble." 

(Which  belief,  if  applied  to  the  men  of  to-day, 
Would  suppose   them  to    be    very  cheerful.)     It 
never 
Occurred  to  our  hero  to  take  it  that  way 

Till   he  fell  to   indulging  in  "  yet  " — and  "  how- 
ever " — 

since  nothing  appeared,  he  resolved  on  a  ])lan, 
Excused  by  the  state  of  his  purse  and  the  season. 

(A  man  will  be  honest  as  long  as  he  can, 
And  failing,  is  sure  to  alight  on  a  reason.) 

Accordingly,  buying  a  fail  weather  friend, 

And  the  use  of  his  office,  in  case  he  should  need  it. 

He  borrowed  a  name,  an  advertisement  penned, 
And  put  into  j.'rint,  that  the  blindest  might  read  it 

Now  this  was  the  notice:   "  Here's  something  for  all 
Who  are  sick  of  the  wearisome  toil  of  inditing: 

Send  a  dollar  to  me  at  my  office,  or  call, 

And    I'll    teach    you    the    latest    improvement  in 
writing. 

"I'll  teach  you  to  write  without  ink,  unthoidt pen; 
Send  a  dollar  along — the  sooner  the  better. 


i 


'rfV 


in 


It 


POKMS. 


3> 


My  oiYivc  is  o])cn  for  business  at  ten; 

i^ut  it's  just  as  convenient  to  teach  you  by  letter." 

A  youth  wasinstal.V,!  in  'he  oflice  to  say 

("A    youth,  quite   a    youth,")    to    the    numerous 
callers, 

That  the  gentleman's  business  had  called  him  awav 
But  they  might  as  well   leave    their  addresses  and 
(h>lh; 


dollars. 


\v 


)n. 


It. 


It. 


nil 


in 


i 


'rfV 


And  the  i)ostman  dej)osited  during  the  day 
A  huntlred  and  fifty  or  sixty  odd  letters; 

And  liob,  the  said  youth,  put'the  monev  away. 
And  coolly  sat  down  to  unfasten  his  fetters.' 

Now,  what  do  you  think  was  the  answer  he  wrote, 
The  principle  taught  them,  or  what  the  utensil"^ 

He  sfmply  to  each  of  them  posted  this  note: 

"  Vou  blockhead,  you  see  you're    to   write    with   a 
j)encil." 

•MORA  I,. 

Ah!  what  was  the  end,  after  such  a  beginning? 

What  could  it  be,  if  not  arrayed  in  a  wrong  dress? 
Ihe  rascal  grew  impudent,  sinning  and  sinning 

And  was  sent-"  to  Sing  Sing  "-no!  to  Congress 


POEMS. 


THAT  SERMON. 


Five  minutes  past  eight,  and  the  preacher  not  here: 
The  papers  said  sharj) — disappointed,  I  fear  I 
"  A  heaven-born  orator,"  the  announcement  said; 
"  A  prophet,  a  g' jat  theologian."  it  read; 
The  house  was  crowded,  not  a"  vacant  seat, 
And  still  a  hundred  or  two  on  the  street. 


■  J' 

■I  I 


A  warm  summer  evening;  a  (piarter  past  eight  I 
I  wonder  how  long  he  expects  us  to  wait? 
It's  reall)  annoying;  my  patience  won't  last 
\>ry  long,  I'm  convinced,  for  it's   rufming  out  fast; 
Hut  then  such  a  treat;   it  is  worth  the  delav-^ 
One  don't  hear  an  clocjuent  man  every  day. 

Twenty  minutes  j)ast  eight.      Ah!    here  he  is  now — 

A  murmur  of  pleasure,  applause  and  a  bow — 

A  plain-looking  man;  but  the  audience  said, 

"  What  a  very  odd  face,  what  a  wonderful  head." 


POEMS. 


33 


I'hcy  sang.      He  arose;    and   throughout   the  great 

hall 
The  silence  was  such  you  might  hear  a  ])in  fall. 

His  text  I  forget.      JUit  that  makes  little  odds, 

ill  texts  and  all  sermons  j^ertain  to  the  gods, 
into  his  subject,  anon  did  he  pause 
To  i)icture  the  beauties  of  si)iritual  laws. 
He  spoke  of  the  messengers  sent  us  in  love, 
And  lifted  his  hands  to  the  ceiling  above. 
(Sage  gesture.)       The  audience  rolled  up  their  eyes. 
And  saw  ajiparitions  sui)erl)  in  the  skies. 
He  smiled,  and  their  faces  were  lit  with  a  smile; 
Looked   sad,    wi})ed    his    eyes,   and    they    wept    for 

awhile; 
Then  he  stormed,   and  his   eloquence  took  them  so 

well. 
They  bent  in  their  seats  to  the  mastering  s})ell; 
On  his  words  hung  enra})tured,  and  murmured  when 

o'er, 
"We  never  heard  anything  like  it  before." 
Looked   sage  and   looked    sideways,  as  much  as  to 

say, 
That's  what    we   call   preaching;   that,  that  is  the 

way." 


.\ 


^•A. 


The   plate   was  passed    round — the    collection    was 

just 
To  defray  cash  expenses,  and  not  run  on  trust; 
And  the  services  were  about  to  be  brought  to  an  end 


■^^ 


I 


34 


POEMS. 


T'T:  or  the   house    to  their  eloquent 

With  the   thanks    ot    mc 

friend, 
When  he  came  .0  the  .>ont^    ^^^^  ^^^^^^ 

,  fnenS  the  announcement  1  ought 
^Excuse  me  my  fr  e«M  .^  ^^.^^^^^  f„,„  „v 

To  have  made  at   the  lirsi, 

.    „  .■".'"  Y^^u  «iU  be  disappointed  to  find 
It  IS  this:     Vou  «!  ^^  to-mglit 

The  preacher  «ho  «a    to  b    -      ^  .^  ^.„,„ 

Has  not  yet  arrived;  and  th  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^. 

That   some   one    should   speak,         t 

!'''»'"•        ,  „f  mv  presence,  they  prayed 

SO,  happening  to  Vno.vo.ny^.^^,      ,  „,.,ed, 

■Phat  I  would  ''ddr--  >  ,^^,  ,,„ae. 

Although  1  »-^"  \,  ;:  ,t\vithot,t  any  extension. 
And  now,  tny  dear  liitna., 

1  thank  you—"  „  ^jj^j,,  attention," 

Hemtended  to  say,^^  ,.  ^j^^^  ,,^„,, 

«„t  the  shuffle  <;^^^;\;^^^'   „„us  to  an  ill-natured 
Drought  his  good  naturcu 

'""'■  ,.   the    door    were   soon    clean  out  of 
Those   nearest   the   oou 

«'Sh'-  ^.  •     tiiecity  that  night; 

And  swear  they  were  "°' '"  '".^  j„  ^,,d  of  Cod," 

•^"<»''^^^''f:;"°:t:dottLghtbyac.od!" 

Now  grumbled     Indcc   ,  iu.disguised  frown. 

And  the  6entlem.an  sa  d,  wttlr  ^  ^^^^^_^.^ 

..  I  knew  from  the  first  he  w  )    ,    messing 

Btnlwouldnot    .stt;rbany    ;ehy^    ,_^^^^^^ 


My  opinion 


In  short,  they 


to 


blessing. 


V 


w 


POEMS. 


35 


They  sang  not  a  hymn,  for  the  choir  were  gone; 
The  gallery  was  empty,  the  organ  alone. 
They  prayed  not  a  prayer,  but  with   common   con- 
sent, 
The  preacher  said  **  Ah!"  and  the  audience  went. 


-o^^SS^XK' 


DEAD  MEN. 


V 


Dig  up  the  bones  of  dead  men!     They  have  no  right 

to  sleep 
With  monuments  to  lions,  whom  Time  hath  proven 

sheep. 
Dig  up   the  bones  of  dead  men!   Life  is  too  sore  a 

fight, 
To  yield  the  victor's  laurel  to  any  stolen  might. 
Dig  up  the  bones  of  dead  men!  Tear  off  the  wreaths, 

and  then 
When  man  beholds  them  naked,  let  him  adjudge  them 


men: 


Heed    not  the    shallow    sentiment    that    holds   the 
jl  weak  in  awe — 

Truth  is  above  all  sentiment!      Right  above  all  law! 


:/> 


I'oEM; 


lENCK  PHILOSOPHY. 

1,,,^S„    ANIONS-     IHK    lAl 

'  POLITICIAN. J 

■        When  I  .as  young  my  parents  sa.d 
I  was  a  little  loon, 
,>,ecause  I  sat  upon  the  fence 
A-ga.ing  at  the  moon. 

U  was  a  high  and  ragged  feno. 
That  shut  the  orchard  round, 

-,he  grape-vmes  grew  along  the  rad>. 
And  trailed  upon  the  ground. 

The  apple  trees  behind  it  rose; 

And  where  I  used  to  sit 

,    •    1    ^   ,^  Snnrhes  spread  al)o\t- 
'Iheir  laden  orancnc>  r.^ 

And  kindly  shaded  it. 

I  Unew  naught  of  the  world  then: 

I  had  but  little  sense; 
\nd  yet  my  heart  was  always  glad 
A-sitting  on  the  fence. 


M 


y\ 


% 


|i 


f  %. 


rOLMS. 

All,  me!  how  I  have  changed  sine  c 

I  was  a  boy  at  play! 
The  innocence  that  cheered  me  then 

The  years  luive  borne  away. 

They  gave  me  other,  rii)cr  joys, 
And  feelings  more  intense; 

lUit  still,  somehow,  they  left  me 
A-sitting  on  the  fence. 

And  yet  I  always  think,  when  men 

In  fierce  coml)at  divide, 
A  man  is  safer  on  the  fence 

Than  down  on  either  side. 

To  smile  on  both,  to  assist  appear. 
But  never  ciuite  commence; 

-And,  till  they  settle  it,  remain 
A -St  raddle  of  the  fence. 

So  few  of  us,  I   grieve  to  think. 

Are  brave  enough  to  own 
The  right,  and  stand   uncowering. 

Unaided  and  alone. 


M 


With  power  armed  beside  her. 
And  Moloch  at  her  heels, 

.\  man  may  be  a  Knight  of  Truth 
And  boast  the  pride  he  feels; 


I'OK.MS. 


l)Ut  when  in  rags,  and  help  will  conic 
We  cannot  tell  from  whence, 

1  think,  like  most,  considering  all, 
I'll  just  get  on  the  fence. 


II 


if 


;  f 


Ml 


So  little  can  we  trust  our  friends; 

'J'o  change  we  are  sc;  j)rone  — 
An  honest  man. can  scarcely  call 

The  smallest  uood  his  own. 

And  when  a  grave  c  onundrum 

Defies  his  teeble  sense. 
What  better  can  a  fellow  do 

Than  get  astride  the  fence? 

It  is  a  great  convenience, 
.And  )et  how  mean  the  joy — 

It  is  not  now  the  same  as  when 
I  sat  on  it,  a  hoy. 

I-'or  though  I  turn  mv  eves  above, 

As  in  the  years  gone  by, 
'1  he  s])ectacles  I  wear  obscure 

The  beauties  of  the  sky. 

'I'ime  was  when  every  twinkling  star 
Could  wake  within  my  breast 

A  ])ure  emotion;  but  their  beams 
Now  leave  mv  soul  unblessed. 


1 


I 


:    \i 


V 


/ 


w 


I'OKMS. 


Vvt  f)t"t  when  I  look  backwards 
riirouiih  mcmorx's  radian".  Icnsc, 

I  think  myself  a  hoy  again, 
.V-siitintr  on  the  fence. 


:.') 


The  moon  is  shininLr  in  the  sk\-; 

'hhe  fields  are  si  celling"  round: 
The  ri\er  murmurs  far  awa\- — 

I  love  its  plaintive  sound  I 


s 


And  sittintf  lliere  I  revel 

In  joys  that  onh'  seem, 
Tntil  a  sigh  that  cf)mes  unsought 

Awakes  mc  from  m\-  dream. 

And  still  I  sit  where  I  have  sat. 

And  still  thev  jjass  awav — 
The  years  that  stole  mv  ra\en  locks 

And  turned  mv  whiskers  urav. 


So  he  it.  \Vhen  at  last  arrives 
The  hour  for  passing  hence, 

In  sooth,  I  may  he  just  as  safe. 
A -sitting  on  the  fence. 


My  sole  recjiiest:   that  when  m_\  friend> 

Are  clamoring  for  mv  i)elf, 
'1  hey  let  my  jaded  memory  sit 

Where  1  have  sat,  mvself. 


masar 


^i^nff^ffSW 


I'OK.MS. 


Meantime  in  every  eaiise  niv  [)ra\  er 

Is  for  the  side  of  right, 
I''or,  though  my  carcass  keeps  llie  feiu  e, 

My  soul  is  in  the  I'lglit. 

And  I'll  reniark,  hy  way,  to  tliose 

Who  llounder  in  the  strife, 
That  it  is  comfortable  h.ere — 

And  lliat's  the  ])oint  in  life. 


I 


J  i. 


THE   W0U1.D. 

AS  VIKWKI)   nV    A   S'l'IXC.  \    MAN. 

(iAer\'  ir.an  sees  tlie  world  through  his  own  soul.) 

A  stingy  world  is  this  world  of  ours, 

No  matter  how  we  take  it; 
A  stingy  world,  for,  h}'  all  the  powers. 

They're  stin-'X'  men  that  make  it. 

The  stingy  merchant  sells  us 

I-iquors  tinadulterated; 
While  his  stingy  notice  tells  us 

To  believe  the  lie  just  stated. 

The  stingy  druLrtiist  bills  us 

For  his  stingy  j)atent  swill; 
And  the  stingy  doctor  kills  tis 

With  his  stingy  little  pill. 


; 


I 


POKMS. 

Tlic  Stingy  oyster  sees  us, 
And  leaves  the  stingy  plate; 

While  the  stingy  lawyer  fees  us 
At  an  anti-stingy  rate. 

I'he  stingy  i)arson  i)reaches, 
Whining  to  the  stingy  i)e\v; 

And  the  stingy  deacon  reaches 
l''or  a  stingy  dime  or  two. 


41 


^ 


1.) 


The  stingy  landlord  (render, 
In  common  justice,  to  him — 
The  devil — what  is  due  him,) 

is  sometimes  feebly  tender. 
If  the  times  are  not  too  hard. 

Hut  the  stingy  money-lender, 

Never  for  a  moment  tender. 
Charges  interest  bv  the  vard. 


Stingy  wives  (uphold  us  justice. 

There  are  stingy  husbands,  too) 
If  we  were  not  stingy,  trust  us, 
Would  proceed  at  once  to  "  bust  " 
To  adorn  their  forms  and  faces 
With  innumerable  graces, 
Leathers,  feathers,  silks  and  hu-es; 
The  bills  for  which  would  break  a 
Mechanic  hourly,  shake  a 
Retired  judge,  and  make  a 


Mill 


ionaire  look  blue. 


us, 


If 


^'     * 


42  I'd  i:  MS. 

TIiL'  stiiiL^y  ])()liti(Man, 

On  the  c\c  (tf  an  election, 

With  polilical  alYecUon, 

Round  your  hajiitation  lingers, 

Offers  \()u  hi>  stingy  finj^ers, 

'i'ells  _\()u  !hit  his  aims  are  _L!;l(»rious, 

•'i'hat  his  purposes  a.re  sipiarL-; 

When  \'ou  hrini;'  him  olf  vi(torir)us. 

And  he  ha.^  secured  tlie  mission, 

lie  would  see  \ou  to  perdition — 
\'es,  and  kindh'  help  \ou  there. 


i 


A  stinii'N'  \\r)ild  is  tins  world  i'>\'  our^. 

No  matter  how  we  take  it, 
.\  stin;j,y  world,  for  h\-  all  the  powers, 

Thex're  stinirx'  men  that  make  it. 


Robbed  l)y  the  milkman,  robbed  b\  t 

'I'he  butcher,  the  grocer, 
Tlie  cabinet-  maker, 
'l"he  gravi-  undertaker, 
The  tramp  and  housebreaker, 
'i"he  weak  and  the  lu-althv, 
The  ])oor  and  the  wealthy; — 


le  h;iker, 


C.reat 


leavens:   all  i^radcs. 


Professions  and  trade? 


)bl 


e  roDhuij:  us; 


Oh,  sir, 


we  iro,  sir, 


An 
Wherever 

To  hovel  or  hall — 
"I  is  \ain  to  sa\-  no,  sir — 

We're  robbed  bv  them  al 


r<U':MS. 


4.^ 


U]''.  ird  from  llu'  famished  paujicr 
io  the  bloated  millionaire, 

VVIiiie  or  yellow,  black  or  eopiJer, 
Man  is  stingy  everywhere. 

Slin{j;y  in  his  youth,  at  bottom; 

Stingy  as  his  summer  flits; 
Stingy  in  his  white-haired  autumn, 

Stingy,  stingy  till  he  dies  — 
When  his  stingy  friends  expressing 
That  his  life  was  one  long  blessing; 
In  their  bitterness,  confessing 
That  their  sorrow,  so  distressing. 

Had  of  reason  nigh  bereft  them; 
Set  themselves  at  once  to  guessing 

What  the  stingy  dog  has  left  them. 

A  stingy  world  is  this  world  of  ours. 
No  matter  how  we  take  it; 

A  stingy  world,  for  by  all  the  powers. 
They're  stingy  men  that  make  it. 


44 


I'OK.MS. 


THE  OLD  HAINDSLKIOH. 


1  was  up  in  the  garret  the  other  day, 

And  rambling  there  at  will, 
I  found  in  a  corner  the  old  handsleigh 

That  was  huUy  of  the  hill. 
The  shoeing  and  irons  were  eaten  with  rust. 

The  color  had  faded  awa}', 
And  a  dull,  dry  rot,  and  a  coat  of  dust 

Had  seized  on  the  old  handsleigh. 

It  was  just  like  meeting  a  dear  old  friend 

And  finding  him  battered  uj). 
So  much  like  myself  that  the  two  griefs  blend 

And  smile  in  the  one  full  cu|). 
It  was  summertime,  but  I  thought  of  snow. 

And  the  nights  upon  the  hill 
Some  fifty,  full  fifty,  years  ago, 

When  we  were  small  boys,  Bill. 


V 


I'OKMS, 


45 


V  . 


When  \vc  tried  it  first,  )()U  remember  the  niglit; 

The  moon  was  in  the  sky; 
We  shouted  U)iul,  while  with  delight 

(Jiir  hearts  beat  ([uick  and  high. 
We  Hew  along,  while  around  our  cars 

The  wind  blew  cold  and  shrill; 
And  i)assing  the  rest  we  gave  three  cheers 

For  the  bully  of  the  hill. 

l)Ut  those  good  old  days  have  ])assed  awa\ ; 

They  have  gone  forever,  Hill; 
And  there's  no  more  talk  of  the  old  handsleig'i 

That  was  bully  of  the  hill, 
r.ut  it's  only  tlie  way  of  the  world,  and  now 

We  are  nigh  the  close  of  our  day, 
And  care  hath  furrowed  the  once  smooth  brow 

And  time  hath  turned  us  <;rav. 

l>ut  I  sometimes  smile — it  is  all  so  strange — 

When  I  come  to  think  of  it,  Hill, 
How  little  our  spirits  know  of  change 

On  either  side  of  the  hill. 
The  laughter  of  vouth  and  the  tears  of  a!j;e 

Are  one  and  a  simple  part 
Of  life's  short  story,  writ  on  the  page 

Oi  the  changing,  yet  changeless  heart. 

We  are  still  the  same  whatever  we  do; 

Our  mirth  and  our  sorrows  blend; 
We  are  only  repeating  ourselves  anew 

From  the  first  of  life  to  the  end. 


. -•fcs^i*!*"' 


!HG^5?5^'^^??S~r*! 


}' 


46 


POKMS. 


'rhough  my  hairs  are  white  I  could  ride  to-day 

With  a  heart  as  lithsome,  Hill, 
As  it  was  in  the  days  when  the  old  handsleiifh 

Was  the  bullv  of  the  hill. 


o:-«>os 


EMERSON. 


Life's  day  of  labor  hath  its  night,  when  Death 

nids  weaiy  nature  sleep  and  l)e  at  rest, 

At  rest  fore\er,  yea.  at  rest  forever  I 

For  though  that  slet;])  be  but  a  change  of  waking. 

Vet  is  that  wakin<j;  rest — eternal  rest. 


K\ 


Into  the  Unknown  he  hath  ])assed  from  us; 
\'ielding  to  earth  all  that  was  born  of  earth. 
Concord  will  miss  him  from  her  (juiet  walks. 
Man  si)eak  of  him  in  fabK  s  of  the  past, 
^lending  his  name  with  dreams  of  puritv. 

With  us  he  is  no  longer.      He  has  gone 

To  join  his  brother,  who  a  day  ago 

l)0wed   his  white   head    and    kissed    the  hand   oi 

Death, 
l-'earlessly  lying  down.     And  now  the  earth 
Hath  wrapped  another  favorite  in  her  folds, 
And  taken  him  to  her  breast,  making  him  part 
Of  her  great  pulses  throbbing  evermore. 


W^r^TSHs-SWm 


I'OK.MS. 


o-(lav 


deigh 


47. 


Oh,  reverend  soul! 

What  secrets,  wliat  eternal  mysteries 

Are  thine  to-day  for  whicli  we  hunger  still  I 

Or  in  thy  cell  unconscious,  if  that  sleej) 

No  waking  knows,  then  art  thou  still  as  wise. 

Since  there  is  naught  to  know — noihing  bevond. 


th 


k  i  n  Li, 


VI 


Oh,  hut  to  know  what  after  life  is  known. 
And,  vet  to  live  and  feast  the  huniirv  mind 
Ui)on  that  knowledgel   Oh,  to  look  away 
Into  the  endless  future  of  the  soul, 
And  lay  a  finger  on  the  heating  heart 
Of  every  motion,  every  thought  to  he — 
( )r  chain  the  wandering  fancy  to  the  grave. 
And  hid  the  reason  (juestion  not  u{  death— 
Oh,  hut  to  know  the  truth  and  he  at  rest  I 


1(1    of 


<iV*D^ 


rt 


m^ 


4« 


POKMS. 


A  POEM  OF  LIFE. 


I  wrote  a  jjot'in  when  the  flush  of  youth 
Was  pink  upon  my  cheek.     In  it  1  strove 
A  new-armed  knight  of  innocence  and  love, 

And  bound  its  rhymes  with  many  a  pleasing  truth. 

I  wrote  a  poem  when  the  dawn  of  sense 
Was  breaking  o'er  the  passions  of  my  soul; 
I  hungered  to  be  wise  and  reach  tlie  goal. 

And  fdled  its  measures  with  a  fire  intense. 

I  wrote  a  poem  when  the  cares  of  life 

Mad  gathered  round  my  path.   It  was  a  groan — 
A  murmur  that  m;   'ips  had  given  tone — 

(^)uelledby  a  hope  tha.  still  endeared  the  strife. 

I  wrote  a  poem  when  the  weight  of  thought 
Had  bowed  my  whitened  head.     It  seemed  to 

weep; 
Its  only  burden  was  a  dream  of  sleep — 

A  sleep  where  every  sorrow  is  forgot. 


V 


V 


POEMS. 


49 


Dreams  Of  Glory  Haunt  Me  lightly! 


Dreams  of  glory  haunt  me  nightly!. 

In  the  silence  calm  and  deep; 
Touch  my  heavy  eyelids  lightly 

With  thy  soothing  fingers,  sleep! 
Let  me  lie  a  while,  forgetting 

All  my  failures,  all  my  schemes; 
Cease  aspiring,  cease  regretting; 

Sleep — and  live  anew  in  dreams. 

Dreams  of  glory  haunt  me  nightly! 

When  my  weary  senses  rest; 
Lo!  the  wizard  Fancy  brightly 

Robes  the  idols  of  my  breast 
In  the  purple  cloth  of  dreams!    Still 

In  my  waking  hours  stay; 
With  my  cares  returning,  beam  still 

In  the  ashen  eye  of  day! 

Dreams  of  glory  haunt  me  nightly! 

Dreams  of  glory  such,  alas, 
As,  if  time  hath  taught  me  rightly, 

Day  will  never  bring  to  pass! 
Not  so  soon,  bright  dreams,  forsake  me. 

Happy  if  I  only  seem! 
Morning,  not  so  soon  awake  me; 

Let  me  slumber  still — and  dream  I 


50 


POEMS. 


A  COMMON  LAMENT. 

O,  for  the  innocent  pleasures  of  youth, 
Cold  life  hath  but  few  of  their  gleams; 

O,  for  the  days  that  were  laden  with  truth, 
And  cradled  my  soul  with  their  dreams! 

O,  to  be  young  and  happy  again, 

As  light  as  a  cloud  on  the  wings  of  the  blast! 
O,  for  the  joys — but  I  weep  in  vain — 

Youth  thou  art  golden,  golden  and  past! 

I  weep,  sweet  hours  come  back  to  me, 

But  they'll  come  to  me  no  more; 
They  have  passed  away,  like  a  wave  of  the  sea, 

And  left  me  a  wreck  on  the  shore. 


J 


WHAT  MILLIONS  MIGHT  SING. 


We  are  free — while    the  chains  of  our  systems  are 
galling, 
And  Justice  is  under  the  thumb  of  the  knave! 
We  are  free — while  a   million  of  free  men  are  call- 
ing 
P'or  comforts  that  were  not  denied  to  the  slave! 
We  are  free — we  may   call  ourselves  free  in  a  man- 
.  ner, 


! 


{j 


POKMS. 


51 


V 


And  bojst  of  a  jjride  that  our  fathers  could  feci; 
We  rnay  lake  off  our  hats  to  the  Star  Spangled  Ban- 
ner, 
lUit  that  does  not  make  our  chains  any  less  real. 

We  are  rich — but  the  strong  arms  of  labor  that  gave 
us 
That  wealth,  are  in  fetters,     'i'he  sinews  of  Toil 
Are  strained  with  the  burdens  of  those  who  enslave 
us 
By  the  wealth  we  have  wrung  with  our  sweat  from 
the  soil! 
Shall  we  ulorv  to  know  we  are  rich  as  a  nation, 

And  boast  of  the  wealth  we  liave  built  up,  so  long 
,\s  that  wealth  is  a  curse  in  its  misai)plication — 
The  fount-head    of    Suffering,    the    right    arm  of 
Wrong  ? 

We  toil,  and  the  fruit  of  our  labor  belongs  to 

Another,  whose  title  is  false  to  the  soil  ; 
And  it  is  the  one  wrong  of  all  earthly  wrongs  to 

Deny  to  the  toiler  the  fruit  of  his  toil  ! 
The  children  of  freemen — yet  vain  to  deny  it. 

Oppressed  by  a  tyranny  freedom  hath  bred  ! 
The  children  of  brave  men — awake  and  defy  it. 

And  rescue  the  living  and  honor  the  deiul. 


HOKMS. 


J 


THE  JUSTICE  OF  IT. 

Injustice  drove  our  fathers  here  from  homes  across 

the  sea  ; 
Injustice    spurred    their  children    on    to    fight    for 

liberty  ; 
^'et,  in  the  midst  of  glorious  dreams  and  after  years 

of  toil, 
Injustice  has  become  at  last  a  native  of  the  soil, 
Rearing  for  Anarchy  a  throne  and  paving  day  by  day, 
Under  the  flag  of  liberty,  the  path  to  sure  decay. 
When    poor  men  have  been    injured  and  at  law  de- 
mand relief. 
They  are  mocked,  through    corrujit    judges,    by    the 

brazen  moneyed  thief, 
Who  claps  his  breeches  jiocket,  sa)ing  with  insulting 

sneer, 
"  Justice,  don't  deceive  yourself,  sir — I    ha\c  judge 

and  jury  here." 


years 


V 


«.' 


